Takeoff
by SymphonicRedWolf
Summary: America has had dreams of flying for a very long time and he's determined to have today be the day he takes off. All his hard work has to pay off and he won't give up until he succeeds. One-shot. (Wasn't quite sure of the genre to put it under, so that's probably wrong...)


_**Hi again! So this was another 2 AM one-shot I wrote. The inspiration for this one hit me as I listened to Lindsey Sterling; this one is about Alfred and his dream for flight.**_

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><p>"Just one more. I've almost got it, I can feel it…" America said to no one as he rubbed his hand against his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that had collected there. For days the young boy had been slaving away over these papers, drawing up blueprint after blueprint only to toss each one of them out.<p>

"The dimensions are all wrong." Toss.

"This one will never get off the ground." Toss.

"The wings are uneven! Ugh!" He crumpled that one extra forcefully and tossed it at the wall hard enough for it to rebound halfway back across the room.

America's small workspace was littered with crumpled balls of paper, the garbage can on the opposite side of the room overflowing and spilling onto the floor. The blond couldn't be bothered to properly discard of the papers, not when he was so close to a breakthrough… He could feel it; his body tingled, his brain alive and buzzing as each little mistake brought him that much closer to his goal.

He looked over his shoulder out the large window behind him, gazing longingly up at the sky. The sun's golden rays lit up his face, giving his wheat-coloured hair the appearance as if it was glowing. The sky; it was so close and yet so far, but the American wouldn't let all this work be in vain. Today was the day; he could feel it deep within his bones.

_Today I take me and my children to the sky and we will fly. _

With renewed vigour, America turned his attention to the desk again, erasing the old pencil marks and grabbing his compass and protractor. Ocean orbs narrowed in concentration as he worked, his tongue sticking out of his mouth ever so slightly.

The workspace was filled with the sound of graphite scratching on paper, of the protractor sliding across the page. Normally the blond liked a loud, exciting environment when he worked to keep him from getting bored, but he wanted this—wanted it more than anything and required absolute silence so nothing could distract him from his goal.

America didn't notice as the bright daylight hours slowly dimmed into late afternoon and evening hours, focusing only on the scratching sound that seemed to get louder and louder the more he worked and on how straight those lines were.

Staring at them for so long, he started to think the markings on the paper were taunting him, never seeming to look quite right just to spark a rise out of the young blond. America just laughed at them, chewing on the edge of his pencil in thought as he took a break for a few minutes.

As his eyes skimmed nearly completed blueprint in front of him, he glared at it, his tired eyes making everything seem skewed. The previously straight lines curved and twisted, enjoying the annoyed look on the American's face. Unable to look at it any longer lest he tear it apart angrily, he stood, biting his pencil in half and threw the pieces at the ground.

It was sundown by the time he decided on taking his much needed break, the sky alive with pinks and oranges. America adjusted his glasses, watching the colourful clouds roll by, searching for any interesting shapes. In the clouds, he saw a bird, a turtle, and was almost positive he saw a dinosaur chasing a cow. Hey, dinosaurs have to eat too, right?

The blond stood at the window until the colours gave way to the blackness of night, running a hand through his tousled hair. His stomach growled and while he'd usually be running for his next meal, the sweet taste of victory and completion practically danced on his tongue, keeping him in that workroom.

With one last glance out the window, he took his seat again, the furious scratching of the pencil filling the room for the hundredth time that day.

Two and a quarter hours later and America leaned back in his seat, face split with a wide grin as he slipped the pencil behind his ear. His eyes traced over every line, every measurement and contour, checking for any imperfections. Nothing here, nothing there… Everything seemed to line up, he noticed joyfully, giving it one last look-over just to be sure. A mistake now would just devastate him.

"Ahaha!" he screamed and laughed, jumping up and hugging the blueprints to his chest. "I've done it!" He rolled up the document neatly, pulling the door open with enough force to rip it clean off its hinges. America didn't even notice as he flew down the halls, spotting the man he was looking for in the distance.

"Reagan!" The blond nearly collided with the shorter man, skidding to a halt mere inches away from him. Before Reagan could get a word out, America had already unfurled the blueprints, proudly shoving them in the dark-haired man's face. "This is it! The design! Today we fly."

Reagan adjusted the thick lenses over his eyes and gingerly took the plans from America's hands, humming in thought as he scrutinized every detail. The blond bounced on his feet, eagerly awaiting the results of his latest attempt.

Green eyes widened as he finished looking it over, America's grin widening even more. "I told you this would be the one, didn't I? And I delivered!" Reagan laughed as a strong hand clapped him on the back, nearly knocking the frames from his face.

"We'll get right to work on this in the morning, sir."

America blinked. "What? No way, dude! I did _not _spend all day working on those plans to have to wait a whole other day to start on them!"

"But sir, almost everyone has retired for the night; it's pretty late after all, and—"

America yanked the plans out of Reagan's hands, the youth staring in shock at the former. "Then I'm going to start on it now. You can all join me when you wake up." He rolled the blueprints up again, tucking them under his arm for safekeeping. There was a spring in his step as he headed toward the hangar to begin assembly when the loud voice of Reagan echoed down the hall after him.

"Sir, wait!" America paused, turning to face him. "I-I couldn't sleep anyway… I'll help you out."

America grinned again, throwing his arm around Reagan's shoulders. "I knew I could count on you! Let's go!"

The sun had started to rise again, the two men not even close to completing the assembly of their new plane. As America went to work cutting materials for the lift strut, several other men began to file into the hangar, looking around curiously.

"Listen up, men!" America started, voice booming with energy even at such an early hour. All the men, Reagan included, stopped and turned to face him, listening intently. "You're all going to help me build this plane and today we're going to fly off into the sunset! The plans are on the table right by Reagan; take as long as you need to read them over. Ready? Break!"

The men gave a collective nod and America went back to the task at hand, humming happily to himself as he worked. The hours rolled by, men scrambling every which way to get the plane constructed, breaking only for meals. The sounds of work and productivity filled the hangar, fueling America's drive.

When the construction was finally complete and the plane had been wheeled outside, the men all stood in a line, staring proudly at their finished product. Standing strong and proud on their soil was a beautiful biplane, decorated to America's every fancy. He wanted it painted in the colours of his country, so his workers had no choice but to comply.

America ran up to the plane, running his fingers over the sleek frame with a grin. "We've done it! Reagan, help me get this baby off the ground. I'm taking her for a test flight."

Reagan stepped forward at the sound of his name, staring incredulously at the blond who was already leaping into the cockpit. "Sir, are you sure? If something goes wrong…"

"I'm sure. Nothing's going to happen; I'm positive."

With a sigh, the dark-haired man walked over to the plane, going over everything with America until the overly-excited blond waved him away.

The plane roared to life underneath him, shaking as it gained power. "I'll see you all soon!" America exclaimed as the plane finished warming up, forcing the throttle forward to send the plane into motion.

And as the wheels left the makeshift tarmac, Alfred grinned as the wind whipped at his face, feeling more pride and joy for his home than he had in a long time. All his hard work had finally paid off. He finally reached the sky he loved so much. He was finally flying.


End file.
